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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417419">when spring comes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, basically me romanticizing winter, bookstore owner seonghwa x music major hongjoong, future fic au kinda, the most of slice of life thing ever, undefined history</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:01:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,261</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>seonghwa is not sure why hongjoong has come back to their sleepy little hometown or what has made hongjoong change so much in the years he's been gone, but the least seonghwa can do is let hongjoong sleep until it's safe to be awake again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>when spring comes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s cold, as always. Seonghwa is bundled up in enough layers to feel and look like a marshmallow, the scarf around his neck making his cheeks much too warm while his feet are still a little icy despite the socks and slippers he’s wearing. He would make more coffee to heat himself up from the inside, but he already drinks so much of it that it’s almost self-destructive, so he holds back and settles for water from the hot water dispenser, watching absentmindedly as the steam rises up from his mug and slowly dissipates as it escapes out the screen of the kitchen window that’s cracked open an inch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another unremarkable day, in an unremarkable life. No one had visited the bookstore today, but at the very least, Seonghwa had finally gotten around to shipping out the online orders accumulated from the last two weeks, running into several old classmates’ parents along the way who’d launched into their usual round of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why hasn’t a handsome man like you married some nice girl yet </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>how long are you going to keep running that sad little bookstore for—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rings, and Seonghwa looks up at the cuckoo clock his mother had given to him when she and his father had bought a newer, bigger one from Germany. 10:23 pm. Hardly a time for anyone to be out in a town like this, especially in this bone-chilling weather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a possibility that it might be Yunho, though, with snacks and beer from the convenience store, hoping to pull Seonghwa away from his late night reading and lure him into conversation despite Seonghwa consistently giving only two words for every fifty that spill out of Yunho.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it—” Seonghwa says as he opens the door, then freezes when he sees that it’s… definitely not Yunho standing on his front porch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a man who is as strange as he is familiar, because Seonghwa has never forgotten those serious, ocean deep eyes, nor the smile that always looked a little sad no matter how much its owner was revered by his peers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, sorry for bothering you this late,” Hongjoong rattles off before he finally sees Seonghwa’s face and stops talking, and Seonghwa blinks back at him, equally bewildered. Hongjoong sounds and looks the same, mostly, although his hair is black and trimmed neatly compared to the dirty blonde and layered cut he’d had when he left all those years ago to pursue a career in music and never looked back. His face looks thinner, but Seonghwa can’t be too sure when the lighting is dim and the rest of Hongjoong’s figure is hidden underneath a long, thick overcoat. “Seonghwa? You live here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Seonghwa says, pursing his lips. “Did you need… something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what happened to my brother?” Hongjoong asks. “I came back to visit, but our… guesthouse looks like it’s been abandoned for a while.”    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s because it has been. He left town without a word of explanation to anyone a few months ago,” Seonghwa replies. The only reason he’d noticed was because of all the mail that was starting to pile up and the windows of the house remaining dark even at night. “I guess you guys don’t really talk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously not,” Hongjoong says. There’s no bite to his words, just casual acceptance of Seonghwa’s observation, and he scratches at the back of his neck sheepishly before turning to leave. “Well, goodnight Seonghwa.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to stay in that house, are you?” Seonghwa asks. “It was looking rough even before your brother left, and it could have only gotten worse without anyone to maintain it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lost the key, anyways,” Hongjoong says lightly, which makes Seonghwa frown. Back in school, Hongjoong had been the last person anyone would expect to lose any of his belongings, since he was so careful and disciplined about everything else. “I’ll find an inn to stay at, so don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have clean blankets,” Seonghwa offers, and Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. “And a couch that can be extended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to impose,” Hongjoong says, taking a step back. “Your family must…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My family lives in our old house,” Seonghwa says. “I live alone.” He looks past Hongjoong, at the expensive white SUV that doesn’t quite fit in with the old trucks and outdated sedans parked throughout their sleepy little town where nothing exciting ever happens. “You must be tired from the drive, no?”    </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pensive, Hongjoong stays where he’s standing. “I don’t—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” Seonghwa says, pulling Hongjoong inside by the arm. He uses a little more force than necessary because he expects Hongjoong to be heavier, but Hongjoong nearly lands face first in Seonghwa’s chest due to how light he is, and they quickly separate while Seonghwa busies himself by taking Hongjoong’s small suitcase inside, too. “Sorry. Do you have anything else you need to bring in?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Hongjoong says, numbly. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tea? Hot chocolate?” Seonghwa offers, when he’s gotten Hongjoong to sit down at the dining table, although it’s not so much a dining table as it is storage space for the books Seonghwa hasn’t gotten around to organizing yet. He’d be more embarrassed about it because he’s usually so much cleaner than this, but he’s been busy running errands for his parents and he’s quickly realizing Hongjoong isn’t paying much attention to his surroundings.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hot chocolate would be nice,” Hongjoong says, running a hand through his hair. His cheeks are flushed, after stepping into a much warmer environment after being out in the cold, and Seonghwa looks away before he blurts out something unfitting for Hongjoong to hear from a half-stranger he hasn’t seen in a little over half a decade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like sweet things, I thought,” Seonghwa says, but he’s already opening the cupboard where he stores his various packets of flavored hot cocoa powder. Dark chocolate, sea salt caramel, something with truffles in it he’d received as a gift from San when they’d last met up... “You were always drinking tea, from what I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I wanted to stay awake,” Hongjoong answers, quietly. “I don’t like being awake so much, these days.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa hums, pouring milk into the small pot he always uses for making hot drinks before he sets it on the stove and turns the heat on. He bites down on his urge to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>why,</span>
  </em>
  <span> to ask what has made someone who doesn’t return for even holidays come back when the holidays have passed and there’s nothing to greet him here beyond the curiosity of people he grew up with and the hidden regard of an old classmate who became a bookstore owner. Hongjoong already looks on the verge of running away, as if he hasn’t relaxed or felt at peace in a long, long time, and Seonghwa will give him emotional escape even if it’s only for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a good place to hibernate,” Seonghwa says, instead, stirring the milk so that it doesn’t leave a ring of residue that’ll be hard to wash later. “How long will you be staying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turns to look at Hongjoong, Hongjoong is watching him like he’s not quite sure what to make of Seonghwa. Then he smiles, relief lingering at the corners of his mouth, and Seonghwa feels like winter has loosened its icy grip, just a bit, and notes that some days are more remarkable than others even if they start out forgettable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe when spring comes,” Hongjoong says. “Since that’s when it’s safe to be awake, again.” </span>
</p>
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